


Chatham Break

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Drama, Humor, M/M, Romance, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-30
Updated: 2006-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian, Michael, Emmett and Ted are invited to an old friend's wedding in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Justin comes along for the ride. Mid-season one.





	1. Mr. Gregory Abbott

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes:

_This is just a random idea that planted itself in my brain and began to bloom during my own summer vacation. I'm not certain where it's headed, but I hope you'll enjoy. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated._

 

* * *

 

His head throbbed. His head throbbed worse than last night. And the night before. And the night last month, when he swore to God that his head had never throbbed so much in his entire alcohol obsessed life. 

Brian Kinney was nestled against the red silk of his sheets, his glazed eyes focused on the small craters on his ceiling. The night out at Babylon had gone south somewhere between a trick with a disappointing dick and that last beer. 

Brian's right hand shot out to fumble with the light switch, knocking over the glass of Scotch he had poured for himself upon entering the loft. His eyelids gave way to their fatigue, plunging Brian into a restless sleep. 

 

_____

 

Something fluttered to a landing on his stomach as Brian cracked his eyelids to the harsh glare looming in the loft. 

"Rise and shine, beautiful," came Justin's familiar Sunshine-y morning voice. The bed caved beneath his weight as he perched himself above Brian, a green hang-over concoction staring at him up through the blender.

"Fuck you," Brian grumbled. He rolled over onto his stomach, crushing the mail Justin had tossed at him into burgundy silk. Nimble fingertips pried it free.

"Snazzy..." Justin cooed, obviously infatuated with one particular envelope.

Brian managed to heave himself onto his elbows, scowling inwardly at the blender that Justin still cradled with definite intent, "Give me my mail! Is a little privacy too much to ask..." he trailed off as he fingered the manila envelope, bordered by ivy and fancy calligraphy.

"What is it?" Justin prodded.

Brian let out a plentiful groan, "It's a fucking wedding invitation."

Justin's smile only widened as he scanned over the card, "Mr. Gregory Abbott and Fernando Geoffreys..." his voice rang with excitement, "A gay wedding! Good for them."

"Listen, kid," Brian spoke slowly as he finally met Justin's eyes, "anyone who is distorted enough to settle down when they're in their early 30's, just because they're afraid of a few gray hairs and an ass that's starting to sag has got a wake-up call coming. Greg is living a life if he thinks he's a good enough fuck for _anyone_ to keep around for life."

Justin paused. He never broke eye contact. "Maybe, instead of always being so cynical, you can find it in your heart to be happy for the friend who still thinks of you enough to send a wedding invitation," He craned forward to kiss Brian's brow line and stood up with evil-green-pitcher in tow.

Brian expelled a sigh, his headache having had returned, "Whatever," he retorted, reaching out for the telephone receiver to call Mikey and inquire about long-lost Greg Abbott.

 

____

"Oooh! Cape Cod! I haven't been there since I got blisters on my butt from sun poisoning!" Emmett chirped, turning _his_ wedding invitation over in his hands.

Michael, Ted and Justin laughed. They all sat together in their favorite Liberty Diner booth, sharing lemon bars and stale coffee. Justin's apron was thrown over the seat as he enjoyed his half-hour break with the pleasant company.

"So, you're all invited?" he asked.

"Apparently," Ted shrugged. 

"And who is this Greg guy, anyway?"

"He's this old friend of ours, sweetheart. This pleasant little man..." Emmett cleared his throat, "pleasantly overweight at the time. He used to go about the routine with us, a couple years back. You know, beers at Woody's, late-night dancing at Babylon," Emmett reminisced, "Studs in Suds always brought out his wild side..."

Justin hung on every word, curious about this never-before mentioned friend.

Mikey interjected, "He took off three or four years ago for Boston. He had new accounts out there."

"And now he's getting married," Justin stated.

"Yes. And we're all invited for a glorious family road trip to New England to share in the festivities," Ted added sarcastically.

"Brian should go with you," Justin pressed, "he could use a break from the self-inflicted abuse lately."

Emmett nodded adamantly, "Amen to that, honey."

____

The music reverberated through the club, tight, sweaty bodies grinding to the rhythm. The air smelled of spilt beer, heady cologne and sex. Sex always oozed from the dance-floor, the bar stools, the bathroom, the back hall. Brian Kinney downed his drink and inhaled the welcomed aroma. 

"So, what's on the menu for tonight?" Ted chided, interrupting Brian from his reverie scanning the floor.

"Nothing you could afford to order, Teddy."

Emmett cooed to himself as a beefy man in leather chaps strode by, his perfectly toned ass dancing tantalizingly away from the panting group.

"It's a shame we have to miss Bondage Night next weekend, boys. Chappy over there could tie me up and torture me all night long!"

"Miss Bondage Night?" Brian cocked an eyebrow.

"Greg's wedding, Bri. Speaking of which, have you RSVPed yet?" Michael inquired.

"Ha. Mikey, you're so naive," Brian's hand reached out to caress the side of his best friend's face, trailing his calloused thumb along Michael's moist lower lip.

Mikey cupped his hand over Brian's, smiling to himself, "I'd reconsider my friend. Who are you going to spend Bondage Night with anyway? We're all going to be at the Cape, enjoying an open bar and a little field trip to Provincetown."

"I don't need the Gay Headquarters of Cape Cod, Mikey. Not when I have horny guys in leather humping my leg."

"That's what you think. Maybe you and David can spend some quality time together."

Brian snorted sarcastically in response, "Justin will entertain me."

Michael's grin widened, "Not if he's in Chatham with ussss..." he singsonged.

Brian reinvested his attention back to the group, who all noted his sudden interest. He growled under his breath, lifting his index finger to signal the bartender for another, " _Fine,"_ he deadpanned, "But I better get some hot wedding ass."


	2. Twinkies

  
Author's notes:

Just a little road trip fic. Shows some moments of our oh-so multi-faceted Justin. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

There was little room to breathe, let alone _move._

Brian's Jeep cruised down the highway at a steady 73 miles per hour, busting at the seams with its inhabitants and their homosexual luggage.

Emmett, Ted and Justin fit snuggly into the back seat. Their bags were splayed out beneath their feet and on their laps. Michael rode shotgun, holding his Captain Astro pillow to his chest and changing the radio station when Emmett's singing grew too obnoxious.

**_Dear God, wherever the fuck you are, please deliver me from this hell. Even I don't deserve this..._** Brian cringed internally.

"Brian...I have to pee!" came the sheepishly unanimous voices of Justin and Emmett.

"I told you to take a nice long whiz before we left, boys. Too bad."

Michael reached over to silence Pat Benatar's serenade, "C'mon, Bri. Let's pull over at the next rest stop. I could use some food, anyway."

That warranted the patented Brian Kinney scowl, cocked eyebrow and all, "Good thing I love you, Mikey."

* * *

"Snag me a naughty porn mag, Ted!" Brian called. He stretched his legs and topped off the gas tank while the other four relieved themselves. 

They had crossed the New York State line two hours before and were nearing the city. The late August night was cool...a pleasant sanctuary from the previous heat-wave. Stars cluttered the sky above the dark freeway, obscured by red tail lights that sped into the distance. 

"Twinkie?" broke Justin's voice, muffled by the yellow cake and cream that rolled around in his mouth. He eagerly extended another Hostess wrapper, containing its own sunny desert. 

Brian laughed to himself as he returned the gas nozzle to its holder. He took the quiet moment to wrap his arms around Justin's slim waist, stroking the skin that peeked out from below black cotton.

"You thmell like gas," _chew, chew, swallow._ Justin took another bite.

"Would you put that fucking thing down?" Brian clamped his hand around Justin's, successfully squishing the remaining twinkie as he leaned in to devour his sugary mouth. The kiss was subtle, slow and taunting at first. Brian's tongue eased out to smooth along Justin's supple lower lip, capturing the cream that lingered there. Justin sighed a little at the unexpected affection, threading his fingers through Brian's, now sticky from the twinkie wrapper.

"How precious. A twinkie from your twink..." came Ted's unappreciated mockery. He rolled Brian's requested porn into a tube, swatting the duo on the head as he climbed into the vehicle. Michael and Emmett followed suit, carrying bags full of high-calorie, low value treats.

Brian peered down into Justin's eyes, now a bit glossy from their brief kiss. He leaned his forehead against the younger man's, continuing to tease the flesh along the hem of his cargos with rough fingertips. 

"Alright Sunshine...hop on in," he slapped his delectable behind as Justin begrudgingly followed orders.

* * *

A can of Pringles, 300 gummy bears and a two-liter of Sprite later, three harmonizing snores sing-songed through the Jeep. Ted's was a slight wheeze. Emmett’s was a mild sputtering. And Mikey's...Mikey's was an obnoxious wail that resembled a snow blower from 1989.

Brian adjusted his rearview mirror to check for a sleeping Justin who was seated directly behind him. Blue eyes, wide awake, met his.

"I guess it's just you and me," Justin noted. His smile only grew.

"I guess so." 

The highway was reasonably quiet for a Friday night. Brian, even being the rash driver he was, didn't mind cruising steadily toward their destination. Heavy traffic and constant merging could drive anyone bullshit.

Justin scooted forward, pressing his chest into the back of Brian's plush seat. He wound his arms around either side, allowing his hands to wander along the driver's stomach. They met with silky material. Beneath that was the rough cotton of Brian's ribbed wife-beater.

"What are you doing?"

"Touching you," Justin purred.

His nimble fingers tediously ran over Brian's little happy trail. Down and around. He made tiny circles against the warm skin, flicking it casually with blunt nails. Unbutton, _slowly_ unzip. Brian licked his lips when Justin took the hardening handful between his fingers.

It was warm, firm, throbbing modestly.

"Do you know what I love?" Justin whispered.

"What?" Both of Brian's hands held the steering wheel.

"I love how you sigh a little bit when I'm stroking you. Never loudly, just a little breath." He ran his thumb along the veins of Brian's cock ever-so slowly. He liked to feel the pulsations. 

"And your eyelids get heavy." His hand moved slowly now, from base to tip. His grip was assertive but subtle, all the more painful.

"And your lips fall open a little bit." He couldn't see Brian's face but he could hear the tell-tale breaths being expelled in small intervals. His thumb graced over the head, smearing rivulets of clear pre-cum that had formed there.

Brian's head lolled down slowly. 

__

Stroke, stroke. Justin's other hand joined the first in Brian's underwear, rolling his balls between expert fingers. He knew every line, every ridge of that man's cock. He knew how to pump rapidly and then let up to leave Brian panting. He knew when to rotate his fist and when to use a light grazing of his nail. Justin could feel Brian's shudder, then.

__

He leaned in closer, especially when he felt Brian tensing in his hand. He made sure to speak slowly, casting his warm breath into the older man's awaiting earlobe. His hand never ceased its rhythm.

"I know. You don't have to tell me. No one can touch you like I do."

And then he orgasmed, almost against his will. Hard and strong and into Justin's awaiting hand that shielded anyone or _anything_ from the fall-out. Brian could hear the contented chuckle from behind him and didn't even have to look to see Justin's matching smirk.

**__**

Little shit. Now he gets off acting like me...

**__**

* * *

Dawn was rising. The ten hour drive from Pittsburg to Eastern Massachusetts had drawled on slowly. Brian used the time to contemplate his new accounts and a strategic campaign advertisement.

"Rise and shine, boys. We're almost there," he murmured as they passed an intricate Chatham landmark.

He tilted the rearview mirror again, scrutinizing the three nestled together in his back seat. Justin's head had come to rest on Emmett's shoulder. He looked so much different in slumber; soft-lipped and rosy-cheeked. Nothing like the boy who had man-handled Brian earlier.

"Hey..." Brian nudged a knuckle into Michael's soft cheek to jostle him. Michael snorted and sat up.

"I'm here, I'm awake."

"You know, Mikey. I don't think I've ever heard you snore that fucking loudly in all the time I've known you..." Brian looked down at the wedding invitation that instructed two, final directions. He made a left turn.

Then another left.

Four wheels ground quietly against a gravel drive, thick foliage lining each side. The obtrusive canopy began to thin as the roadway bled open to reveal the most exquisite Cape Cod estate. The scene played out much like the opening to any classic Massachusetts film. 

The home was enormous, adorned with typical weathered shingles and quaint little white shutters. Rows and rows of white picket fencing bordered the domain that was abundant with lush foliage; the most obvious of which were the striking blue buds flowering on plentiful hydrangea bushes. Three tents resided on a perfect lawn, wound with Chinese lanterns and ivy. You could see the ocean on the far side of the property...lapping against warm sand and casting a salty breeze through the windows of the Jeep.

Brian skidded to an obnoxious halt. Emmett, Ted and Justin whimpered their displeasure. Striding from the vehicle, Brian stretched his tired arms like a sleepy feline and yawned.

"Greggie, you son of a bitch! I'm here!"


End file.
